Monday, 4 October 2010

04/10/2010

If I must be honest, this is a farce. I feel like such a charlatan. Its lies, all lies I tell you. I can't GIM today, there's no point behind it, why am I writing this? For you see gentlefolk, I am not at work today. I will not be at work tomorrow either, or the day after that. Infact good people, I will not be at work for the next 2-3 weeks. Calm down a notch, do not despair, I haven't been fired. Or suspended either. Womilee is on leave. Yes you beautiful bastards, I am on vacation.... Maybe I shouldn't call it 'vacation', that term conjours up thoughts of airplanes and exotic lands and such. Right, we'll leave it at 'leave' then, cos I aint going nowhere! I shall be sitting my fat ass at home all day, eating, sleeping and PHCN willing, playing video games and watching tv. This kind of activity is where my true talent lies. General fucking about and fuckery, what a skill.
Like I said earlier, I really shouldn't be writing this then. To be honest, I would rather not be writing at all, as PHCN is currently being quite benevolent with the electricity. But the board, the council, the gathering of black hearts and stained souls.... Those bastards have been putting massive amounts of pressure on me to write again. Personally, I had retired from GIM permanently, I mean let's be honest, how much can one really have to say about Monday? It was being forced, it was being strained, it was over. As the saying goes 'There's no use flogging a dead horse cause you can't force it to drink from water....' Or something of that sort. But the board are having none of it. They have resorted back to their usual strong arm tactics and even went as far as attempting to dislodge me from my position in the organisation. The issue has, as of yet, not been resolved, but the message they put across has been clear....'Get back to writing muthafucker or else.....' As secret organisations like to do, they got this sentiment across to me using all forms of codes and trickery. It required deciphering of puzzles, deep soul searching quests and many consultations with the all knowing elders who only appear to you after the 3rd bottle of Guinness. At a time, I was at a loss, 'Why is the board fucking with me?!'.... Then they sent their final message, which made everything clear.... A text, saying 'Get back to writing mutherfucker or else...'. Subtle aren't they?
I knew then that I had to do this again. But alas, I am not at work. I have no reason to cuss out monday, my boss, any colleagues or customers. With this in mind, I have decided to simply tell you. Yes, I will here on end tell you everything about absolutely nothing. Welcome to the Wonderful World of Womilee. May the Almighty have mercy on you all for what the board has unleashed upon you.
Of course, it starts with a work-related musing.....
Who knows what a 'Self Assessment Tax' is? I didn't find out about this until recently. Apparently, its a type of levy that is paid by people who work for themselves or are in a partnership. When paying this tax, you give account of all your income and expenditure and blah, blah, etc. Not very interesting, I know. As I said, I had no knowledge of this tax or what its about until recently....
A customer walked up to me recently and asked where he could pay his Self Assessment Tax. I, of course, as a hardworking member of staff gave him the answer to the best of my knowledge, telling him that I didn't work there and directing him to a someone who could answer his question.
As I was mentally congratulating myself for a situation well handled, it suddenly struck me....'Self Assessment Tax?! Doesn't assessment mean appraisal, aka evaluate, aka check out?! They're charging people to check themselves out now?!'.
I mean honestly, how would it work? Would there be government officials constantly on patrol, making sure you don't look in a mirror? You take one glance at a reflective surface and suddenly you're surrounded by uniformed officers, calculating the amount of time you spent looking at yourself and dividing it by the perceived amount of pleasure and satisfaction you got from assessing yourself.... 'I'm sorry madam, but you just spent 5mins looking in that mirror, and from the smile on your face, you owe the government 500 naira.... Here's your ticket, have a nice day.....'
I started to pity those poor husbands out there who already work like dogs to keep up with their wife's vanities. After putting down a fortune just to have her indulge in her clothes and bags and general pamperings, the poor bastards will now live in mortal fear of the day she comes back home with a bags and bags of clothing. Because he'll know that she tried on each and every one of those outfits and stared at herself for hour after hour.
This whole situation worried me so much, I almost called a certain darling baby cousin of mine to warn her...'Sweetie, I know it might kill you, but you gotta stop checking yourself out so much.... It just became an expensive fucking habit!....'
Really, shopping abroad would instantly become even more desirable. Apart from the larger selection of items, people would now shop just to get a glance at how good they look, instead of having to ask stranger after stranger....'Does my bum look big in this....?'
I refer mostly to the women folk because, honestly, I can't remember the last time I looked in a reflective surface....I could give a fuck, as I hope most of my brethren out there also believe. The only tax that would really affect me would be an Ass-Assessment Tax.... and may the Good Lord never allow such a thing into existence. Amen.
Thank Him for Google though, I now know what a Self Assessment Tax is.... and so do you.
I am Womilee.....